Mets pitcher Mike Pelfrey enduring 'one of worst stretches in life'

Christian Petersen/Getty ImagesMike Pelfrey reacts in the dugout after being removed from a game against the Diamondbacks last Monday in which he logged the shortest start of his career, 1 1/3 innings, with six runs allowed.

LOS ANGELES — He is a man in search of himself. He knows who he is. He knows his own capabilities. Chastened by recent failure, Mike Pelfrey understands the value in that knowledge. Without it, he is lost.

These past three days, reeling from what he called “one of the worst stretches in my life,” Pelfrey has had time to reflect. His ears open, the Mets clubhouse poured out advice, all of it both simple and complex, boiled down to this:

Be yourself, Mike.

“You have to learn about what makes you successful,” Pelfrey said. “The things that make you successful and the reason you’re here.”

His start today against the Dodgers serves as a crossroads, a referendum on a season once bursting with potential. The ace talk that once surrounded Pelfrey has been tabled. Now, more pressing concerns loom.

He lost his way bit by bit. Pelfrey (10-5, 4.01 ERA) has allowed at least four runs in each of last four starts. Monday in Arizona felt like a nadir. His faith in his fastball appeared minuscule — unable to throw fastballs for strikes, he relied on secondary sliders and splitters far too early in the game. The Diamondbacks crushed him. He logged the shortest start of his career, 1 1/3 frightful innings, with six runs allowed and concern spreading throughout the clubhouse.

After the game, Mets manager Jerry Manuel pulled Pelfrey aside. You are not a breaking-pitch specialist, Manuel told him.

“He’s not a finesse guy,” Manuel said. “He’s not a trick guy. He’s a power sinker guy. And that’s what he’s got to get back to.”

Pelfrey’s case puzzles the mind. He is 6-7 with a fluid motion, a powerful arm and wavering self-esteem. His identity is locked into pitches, the four-seam fastball and two-seam sinker, which he did not trust in his past four starts. Those who coached him through his formative years saw his gifts, nurtured them, tried their best to convince Pelfrey to believe in them.

Yet he drifts. A case of dead arm weakened him earlier this month. When the life returned to his arm, his confidence did not come with it.

“That was a dull period in his mind, as well as his arm,” pitching coach Dan Warthen said. “And now he has to get that light to go back on and realize that he’s really good.”

Inside a clubhouse desperate to end this losing skid that had grown to four straight heading into Friday night’s game here, the Mets both nurture and challenge Pelfrey.

On Monday, he sat on the bench after Manuel yanked him. In time, he left the dugout. The game dragged on. Catcher Henry Blanco, a veteran of 13 seasons, found Pelfrey sitting at his locker. Blanco scolded Pelfrey for his pitch selection, for shrinking away from his talent.

If you lose with your best stuff, Blanco told him, you tip your cap to the opponent. But when you lose with your third and fourth pitches, you disappoint everyone.

Be yourself, Mike, the clubhouse chorus echoes. Be the man you can be.

The boy was about 6-feet tall and beanpole skinny, a 13-year-old pitching on a Little League team for 14-year-olds in Wichita, Kansas. The team’s coach asked a former sinkerballer named Steve Lienhard to impart wisdom to the team’s pitching staff. Lienhard had pitched for Oklahoma State, threw some games in the minors, coached some, too.

He saw the tall kid throw, all long limbs and possibility. He projected something special. Lienhard turned to Anna Pelfrey, the boy’s mother.

He’ll pitch in the big leagues, Lienhard told her, if you keep him with the right person.

Well, she replied, I guess that’ll be you.

Lienhard became teenage Mike Pelfrey’s mentor. Their relationship was forged through hours together, Lienhard reminding him to stay level, to steady his pitching motion, to avoid landing on his heels. Pelfrey kept listening. He kept growing.

He still pitches to Lienhard each offseason. During the All-Star break, he threw a bullpen session with him. Lienhard texts Pelfrey before each start.

Two years after Lienhard began working with Pelfrey, the pitching coach at Wichita State came to see him pitch. Folks kept telling Brent Kemnitz about this hometown kid with talent. So Kemnitz, a long-time pitching guru, eyeballed the high-schooler.

“The first time I saw him,” Kemnitz said, “I was like ‘Wow, I didn’t know he was this good.’ Here’s a 6-7 kid and his arm worked and he’s easy and effortless.”

Before graduating from high school in 2002, Pelfrey signed with Wichita State. Kemnitz worried about the draft that year, figuring Pelfrey might bolt for pro ball. Yet he tumbled to the 15th round, an afterthought for Tampa Bay. The drop stung, Kemnitz said years later.

Pelfrey, those close to him believe, craves respect more than recognition. But he still felt slighted after missing this year’s All-Star Game. After the 2002 draft, his college coach recognized disappointment in his new pupil.

Kemnitz invited Pelfrey to his office at Wichita State. He sat Pelfrey down, he recalled, and told him “this is the best thing that could have ever happened to you.” Pelfrey would mature as a person, Kemnitz reasoned. His body would develop. He would learn. And he would become the best college pitcher in the country.

For three years, Kemnitz taught Pelfrey to never rest. Each hitter can hurt you, he cautioned. You must believe in every pitch. You must throw with conviction.

Pelfrey listened, buoyed by the ability to overpower Missouri Valley Conference hitters with 93-mph fastballs. In the 2005 draft, the Mets made him the third college pitcher chosen.

R.A. Dickey made a fist with his left hand, then enclosed it with his right. The fist, he explained, represented a pitcher’s core, that internal mix which “gives you an identity.” The right hand represented the pitcher’s performance.

During the long season — with occasional slumps gnawing and overeager teammates offering suggestions and the constant search for a quick fix — sometimes a pitcher drifts away from the core. The right hand no longer encloses the left.

This is Mike Pelfrey now, as this Mets season hangs on the precipice. This is Dickey’s advice, as the team needs Pelfrey to dominate once more:

Find yourself, Mike.

“It’s just a matter of being who he is meant to be,” Dickey said. “It’s not rocket science.”

Dickey sits with Pelfrey on each plane flight. They eat meals together, trade stories. His arm remodeled for knuckleballs, Dickey offers scant technical advice. He tells Pelfrey only to find “the source of who he is.” Mostly, Dickey just listens.

“You hurt for him,” Dickey said. “You really do.”

That pain spreads through the clubhouse and back to the plains of Kansas. After the last start, Jeff Francoeur told Pelfrey he needs to throw his sinker more. David Wright feels he needs pitch to both sides of the plate. Back in Wichita, Lienhard heard from a few friends that Pelfrey needed to hit a batter — anything to defend the inner half of the strike zone.

Pelfrey listens to the advice. He threw a bullpen session on Wednesday. Warthen emphasized that Pelfrey controls the game. No one else does.

“You have to use your strengths,” Pelfrey said. “I’ve just gotten away from that.”Andy McCullough may be reached at amccullough@starledger.com